To Live Without Regrets
by Lazuli73
Summary: Can Brennan or Booth really live without regrets where each other is concerned? Delves into Key moments in the B&B partnership that touch on this theme. This fic will ultimately include S1-S6, beware of spoilers. STORY NOW REOPENED!
1. Love In the Air

**Disclaimer**: _Bones_ and its characters doesn't belong to me, but I thank FOX for creating such great ones!

**A/N:** The following is my first fanfic of any sort, Bones or otherwise! I'd love to hear your thoughts when it's done. This fic comes out of my rewatching of all the Bones episodes during the summer hiatus after season 6. Specifically, Bones says some things to Angela about regrets in "The Glowing Bones in the Old Stone House" that immediately made me think of S6's "The Doctor in the Photo" episode... and I wanted to bring out those resonances about Brennan, decisions, and regrets, in a way that also makes sense for the revelations in ep. 100. This will certainly have another chapter to follow (it's almost finished and will probably be posted quite quickly); I'm not sure if I want to make it any longer than that, so ... feed back will be appreciated!

_Story Title: To Live Without Regrets_

_Chapter 1 – Love in the Air_

Dr. Temperance Brennan stood in her kitchen with an unusual feeling in her abdominal region, an unsettled feeling. She wasn't quite sure why. Booth would be arriving for the promised mac n' cheese meal any minute now, and the preparations were well underway. Brennan had the sauce and noodles cooking, the oven preheating with some fresh bread from the bakery keeping warm inside, and the table was mostly set. Why, then, was she so disturbed?

She chuckled a bit, thinking about the recent events at the lab. Love, and whatever everyone meant by it, was in the air, it seemed. Hodgins was trying to get Angela to marry him, and when he wasn't proposing, he and Angela couldn't keep their hands off each other. Whether the computer was running an analysis, or whether it was a lunch date at the "Egyptian place"—that place being the replica of Cleopatra's bed, and not a fine dining establishment—they always seemed to have their bodies connected in one or another sensual way.

Brennan took the pasta off the stove, poured it through a colander, and stirred it in with the cheese sauce. She poured the whole mixture into a baking dish and sprinkled breadcrumbs liberally over the top, placing the dish into the waiting oven.

Angela and Hodgins weren't the only ones talking about love. Booth wasn't helping matters either, constantly talking to her about what Hodgins had said about the proposal process, or his beliefs about "love." Brennan chuckled again and felt another flutter of uncertainty when she heard a knock on the door, in the usual pattern that signaled her partner's arrival.

"Hey Booth," she said, opening the door to let him in. Booth moved past her quickly, sniffing the air. "Geez Bones," he responded, "it smells great in here!"

"Thanks. It's just about ready, I only have to caramelize the top of the mac n' cheese under the broiler."

"Can I do anything to help?" Booth asked, arms open at his sides. He walked towards the fridge to help himself to a beer. Suddenly he paused, this night seemed different than their ordinary evenings of takeout with a side of bickering. "You don't mind if I help myself, do you?"

"No Booth, of course not." She paused, too, remembering the incident as she usually did. "Just don't get injured!"

Booth made a slight grunting sound at the memory but opened the fridge anyways, pulling out a light beer. "I'm serious, let me help."

"Thanks, but I have it all," she replied easily. "Just sit down." As she spoke, she moved around the kitchen, taking the warm bread to the table. She glanced at her partner occasionally, trying not to be obvious, but the t-shirt he was wearing could in no way hide his well-formed upper arms, and Brennan found the sight quite intriguing.

"Really? Because I don't want to come off as some male chauvinistic caveman while you're doing all the work… you, being a woman, you know" he bantered, flashing a charm smile.

"O-ho, so I'm not just one of the guys anymore, huh?" Brennan said boldly, not really daring to wait for a response. "But yes," she rushed on, "the fact that you're thinking such an enlightened thought proves that you can't be, as you so colorfully put it, a chauvinistic caveman, not to mention that prehistoric humans, despite being far more socially advanced than is commonly thought, likely did not have a well-developed concept of something like chauvinism."

"Ok, ok, it was just a phrase. And assumptions aside, I'm glad you don't think I'm one of them!" he retorted with a patient smile.

"I mean it, Booth, dinner is almost ready, so just sit down." As she spoke, she removed the mac n' cheese from the oven and laid it on the table.

Ever persistent, Booth responded, "You know, you should let me help."

"No," responded Brennan, setting an empty bowl in front of Booth, as if that would settle the matter. "Cleaning up. You can do that."

"Great. Wow!" Booth laughed a bit, and Brennan observed again just how unusually relaxed and happy he seemed. "Mac and cheese!" As he spoke, she returned to the kitchen and brought back a bowl for herself, sitting down kitty-corner from her partner.

Booth surveyed the table laid before him, his beer now in a tall glass, white wine in front of Brennan's place, the basket of rolls, the music playing softly in the background. "Wow! Bones! This- this looks fantastic!"

Unsure of what to make of his repeated enthusiasm for such a classic, and essentially simple, dish as macaroni and cheese, Brennan could only respond, "Yeah? Really?"

"Oh, I mean, you shouldn't have, I mean, all this work just for me?" Booth's apparent bashfulness caught her off guard. When was her partner ever bashful? Didn't he like a home-cooked meal?

Looking down as she spoke, Brennan could only say, "What? No, I mean. It wasn't that much." She knew, though, that it was something, something she did gladly, and she found herself inordinately pleased by the sight of Booth sitting at her kitchen table, eating a simple meal, rather than sprawled all over the couch with a box of takeout in his hands. Not that she didn't end up enjoying his take-out surprises, but this evening was shaping up to be something different, something good.

Brennan looked up again and she caught Booth's eyes looking at her, warm and inviting, and couldn't look away. He took a second bite of mac n' cheese and breathed out slowly, exhaling. "Mmm," he said. Brennan smiled back widely, happily; he really seemed to like the food. "This is unbelievable." His face melted into a smile, and Brennan saw his eyes sparkling, the corners crinkling as he ate and spoke. Their eyes met and held as they looked at each other with unashamed smiles of—was that delight? She almost didn't know when she'd seen him like this, except that once, after their very first case together, almost three years before.

"You like it?" she asked quietly, her words containing an emphasis she wasn't sure she wanted to understand.

Booth's toothy grin diffused her uncertainty. "I'd like to be alone with it," he said with gusto, laughing. He'd expected her to make a disparaging and logical remark, or to comment on the socio-cultural significance of food and solitary existence. But Brennan could only kept smiling broadly.

"She said I could go with my instincts, so I put in a little fresh ground nutmeg."

The nutmeg must be that homey flavor, Booth realized. "Well, she taught you well," he told her seriously, remembering how his partner had tried to hide the strain of knowing the victim. "Thanks, Bones," he added, and he tried to convey how much he really meant it.

Unhcharacteristically, Booth though, she failed to take full credit, and he was surprised when she said only, "Yeah, well, you know. We have to eat, right?" She smiled widely at her partner as he continued to eat with sounds of obvious satisfaction.

Booth certainly couldn't deny the logic of her statement, especially when applied to him, so he only responded, "Yeah. Gotta eat. Always gotta eat."

The meal continued in the same happy, quiet vein, the conversation resting mainly on topics as seemingly trivial as mac and cheese: Parker's latest antics at school and sports, Brennan's latest communications from her publisher, and just what Brennan had missed by passing on the toro at the sushi bar.

Only occasionally did they pause to eat in silence, and Brennan caught Booth looking at her, this puzzled look on his face. She almost realized it mirrored her own, and she almost called Booth on it, but something held her back. The moment felt too perfect, too right, to risk conversation—and for these partners, that said something.

Eventually Brennan laid her fork down on her plate. "Well, I suppose we do need to get these cleaned up. You promised, Booth! Come on, time to get up, let's move these dishes into the kitchen." Booth paused before standing, clearly wanting the meal to last longer, the happiness to continue. After a moment he stood too, and followed her into the kitchen with his plate.

"I really do think Hodgins is going to do _something," _ he told her. "He came up to me today, making even less sense than usual, and I thought he was going to ask me for advice, ag—"

Brennan interrupted, holding out a dish for Booth. "Hodgins has asked you _again_ for further proposal advice?" She saw Booth stiffen and added, softer, "I didn't mean that like it sounded. I didn't realize you were that close to him."

"Um. Well, yes, he has, fat lot of good it's been to him, right?" Booth said, turning from her to put more dishes into the dishwasher.

Brennan interrupted again. "Does he really think she'll say yes sometime?"

"Well, you're her best friend, I'm sure you have some inside insight." Booth turned to her as he answered.

"I think she wants to be able to say yes, but feels – or thinks, I don't know – that she shouldn't, because she sees herself as a free spirit. And she tells me that I'm the one causing her to think of the social ramifications of entering into the marriage contract, as if I'm trying to deny her happiness. But I do want her to be happy, Booth, I really do." Brennan rambled on, not watching Booth, trying to make sense, when she noticed that the clinking of dishes into the dishwasher had stopped entirely as Booth focused only on her.

Booth noticed she had bitten one side of her lower lip between her teeth, a universal Bones signal for the discomfort of uncertainty. He took a step closer, still holding the dishtowel. His response was gentle. "No Bones, it doesn't work that way. Angela's a grown woman, and she'll make her own decisions. It's good for both of you that you can talk, but whatever decision she ultimately makes? Is in no way your fault."

Brennan looked away from her partner for a second, her thoughts turning to the conversations she'd had with Angela earlier that week.

"_What if I want to say yes," Angela had asked, after Brennan practically instructed__ her to decline. They were walking back to the latter's office, and Brennan's response had been surprised in the extreme. "You get married?" she'd said, just a little stress on the word "you." Angela, after all, had once let a "perfect" man be with her for only three weeks out of the year; she was not exactly the marrying sort. _

_Angela's next response surprised Brennan just as much as her previous statement had. "Sometimes your brain just shuts off, because you're... in love."_

_While Brennan might have taken the moment to point out, as she had to Booth at the start of the case, her oft-cited believe about love being composed of chemicals, she stayed focused on the matter at hand, Hodgins's unwavering pursuit of Angela's hand in marriage. "One can't logically base a decision on momentary happiness," Brennan told her friend clearly. _

_The pair entered Brennan's office and sat down. Angela, not deterred by Brennan's forcefulness, pushed her friend's comfort zone just a little more. "Haven't you ever just looked at a guy and said, 'Screw it'?" Her voice took on its usual sultry tone when alluding to sexual innuendo. "...Well, maybe not the best choice of words, okay, but... Like, when you were with Sully. Don't you regret letting him go?"_

_Brennan paused. The face that came to her mind was not Sully's, leaving on the boat, but her partner's, at the close of their first case a year before he'd detained her at the airport and forced her to work with him again. They had stood outside the Founding Fathers restaurant and bar, stepping closer, kissing, but she watched his face get smaller as she looked out the back of a taxicab, alone. _

_Clearing her mind, Brennan looked at Angela, saying, "I made a decision. Regrets serve no real purpose. If you want to be impulsive, why don't you just say yes?" As she spoke, though, the memories continued. She remembered how she turned to look back at the incredibly handsome man whom she had teasingly (but not decisively, she thought) turned down. The next morning she called him stupid, slapped his face, and threw him out of her life. Her gut clenched as the memory raced quickly through her mind. _

_Brennan mind moved to the continuation of her conversation with Angela. She wanted to explain how she made decisions. "It's just... If a relationship seems more than casual, I feel that I need to posit the potential problems. Probabilities of success and failure, or..." she'd told her friend, her mind flashing to that long ago kiss with Booth. He'd told her he was working on his gambling problem, and he'd done that because he thought they had something together that might go somewhere. _

_With those words, Brennan's calculator-like brain started figuring positives and negatives, factoring in what admittedly little she knew of Booth so far, and of herself, and determining that to let her attraction to him go any farther than it had, was quite far enough. He seemed to be a good enough man, but he didn't know her background; she couldn't cause him the pain that being with her certainly would produce. Not to mention their differences in socio-economic background, education, and overall worldviews. She had come to the clear conclusion that despite how well they got along together, enough was enough. She would at least do him the honor of not giving false hope. The next morning, she donned black glasses in the lab, as much a cover for her hangover as a symbolic wall around her emotions and her privacy that no one, especially not the cocky FBI agent, would be allowed behind. It was a year before she saw him again. _

_Angela had interrupted her reverie with a brief statement. "You get scared." _

_This time, her mind still dwelling on that case and the agent it introduced her to, she responded quietly. "But I miss so much, don't I?"_

_Angela sounded almost sad as she replied honestly, "I want to say no, but... yeah. You do. And so does whoever you're keeping yourself from." Unbidden, though by then not surprising, images of Booth flashed through Brennan's mind. _

"Bones? Bones?" Booth waved his hands in front of his eyes. One minute they'd been talking about Angela and Hodgins; the next Bones was just _gone, _gazing quietly at the floor, lost in thought. Her head snapped up at his words and she looked at him, her eyes slowly coming into focus. His face was directly in front of hers.

"Whoa, I was really out of it there for a second, wasn't I?" she laughed uneasily, a slight flush rising to her cheeks.

"Yeah, Bones, you were. Where did you go?" Booth straightened, but stayed near her.

"I didn't go anywhere Booth, I was right-"

"No Bones, I don't mean physically, I mean _here_," he said, tapping his skull with his fingers.

Brennan smiled. "I don't know how she'll make a decision like that, Booth. I don't understand!" Brennan declared, stomping her foot slightly for emphasis. "When I make decisions, I make them carefully. I weigh the positive and the negative outcomes and come to the conclusion least likely to result in long-term pain."

"You really think it's that easy, don't you, Bones." Booth said, his voice suddenly quiet. He knew Bones much better now than he once had, but she still surprised him with how far she carried her reliance on logic.

"Yes, Booth, I do. … That wasn't a question, was it." She took a step away from him, as if trying to clear her thoughts.

"No, Bones, not really." Not wanting to break the moment, Booth paused before speaking again. If he'd learned anything from working with Brennan these last two years, it was that he had to speak and act much more carefully with her than with anyone he'd ever known. She had become his partner and his friend, and often he remembered that at first it seemed they could have been more. One wrong word, and he'd end up with her palm across his cheek again. That slap on the face, so soon after what had been a heck of a kiss, had hurt in more ways than one. They'd come so far since that first case, that Booth didn't want to make a single mistake, didn't want to do anything that might cause this woman to run again.

When they had first met, she'd stood in front of a classroom, strong and utterly unafraid to take a stand. Plus, she was beautiful. Not exactly what he'd imagined from a professor and a forensic anthropologist. He hadn't lied to her when he told her that night at the Founding Fathers that he thought their attraction might be leading somewhere; he'd been honest, too honest, and therein lay his mistake. Any other woman might have appreciated such forthright emotion coming from a man, but Bones was no ordinary woman.

"Come on Bones," he said gently, reaching out to touch her arm. "I'm through with these. Let's sit on the couch."

Booth watched Brennan take in the dishes that still remained to be done, look at him with a question in her eyes, and open her mouth. He answered the unspoken bicker that was sure to emerge. "You're right. I'm not quite done, but the dishes can wait, and whatever's going on in that genius brain of yours can't. Let's sit." His hand slipped down to around her wrist as he led her to the couch. Her blue eyes, so happy earlier in the evening, now seemed far away, quiet, and even a bit nervous. They sat down next to each other, their bodies not touching, and Booth released his hand from her wrist.

_To be continued (soon)_


	2. No Regrets

Chapter 2 – No Regrets

"Something's bothering you," Booth said to his partner as they sat down. "Angela and Hodgins?"

Brennan looked at him, her head shaking no and yes as she sorted through her thoughts. "Not exactly, but yes. You and Angela speak of love as if it should be simple, but I just can't do it that way, Booth. Sometimes I think I want to. Angela says that I … I miss so much… by doing it my way." Sadness echoed in her words as she spoke and Booth wanted so much to take her hand, but he didn't.

Once again, Booth opened his mouth to speak, but Brennan cut him off. All evening, he had followed her cues. One wrong move, Booth reminded himself, one wrong step, whatever it may be, and this moment could blow up in my face.

Brennan spoke, but the sadness was gone, replaced by firm determination. "Do you want to know why I think I stayed here, rather than going with Sully?" Brennan asked.

"What? No, it's all right, Bones. We've been over that. Gordon Gordon says it has nothing to do with … you and me…" His words trailed off.

"I don't mean that, Booth. I think I finally know why I made the decision I did, even if I couldn't have vocalized the reasons at the time."

"O-kay," Booth said slowly. His voice held more of a defensive edge than he necessarily intended. He really wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he did know that Bones would tell him whether or not he wanted to hear it.

Brennan held his eyes with hers, as if she had to say this now, or it never would be said. "I stayed because I wanted to – what did you say that day? Live widely." Booth opened his mouth, surprised, and he felt his expression soften and his hands, which had been clenching into fists, began to relax. Brennan continued, faltering slightly. "When I'm with you… as my friend and partner, I live widely." Her voice became soft again, as if she were uncertain of what he'd say. "You help me to see … things … the world, people, especially people … in ways I never could before. In my life, that _is_ living widely." she concluded.

Booth swallowed. He thought about telling her that "live widely" had been Angela's phrase, that she'd called him a "narrow romantic," and did Bones have any idea what it meant to him that _she, _of all people, would say this. He considered downplaying her words, attributing her more open emotionalism to Sully's positive influence or her father's recent and still unsettling presence, but all he could do was look into her eyes, cough, and feel the heat begin to suffuse his face.

When he didn't respond, she said, "I could never regret staying here." She looked closely at him. "That would never happen," she added, and Booth recognized the echo of her words to him from just after their first kiss so very long ago. He wondered where she was going with this: was she going to run again, walk closer, or stay in the same place? Her words lingered in the air between them and he reached for her hand, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it.

"Bones." He said. "That may well be the nicest thing you've ever said to me." And he smiled a happy smile that his partner's face immediately echoed.

"Really? I wasn't sure if I should say anything, but you seemed so confused by how I make decisions of a personal nature, that I wanted to be sure you understand. You do understand, don't you, Booth?" Brennan sounded relieved.

"Well, I'm not sure I'll ever quite understand what goes on up there in your big head"—he gave her hair a little pat that was definitely a "just partners" pat—"but I expect that, whether or not you know it, your heart is in the right place."

"Does that mean you've forgiven me for slapping your face and not seeing you for a year?" she asked. She still hadn't moved, hadn't shifted closer or away, but simply seemed receptive, open.

Booth almost jumped. Where did _that _come from? Bones's mind, for all its logic, worked in the strangest of ways sometimes. "Wait. What? You want to talk about _that_ case? You and I, we have _never_ talked about that case… or what happened… not once. Sometimes I think it didn't actually happen, we _so_ don't talk about that case."

"I know, Booth, but it's important that you understand. I want you to understand. I don't regret what I did. You have to know that." She spoke quickly, as if rushing through the words, trying to get them out.

"So you're not going to apologize?" he asked? Maybe he hadn't forgiven her the slight, but when as amazing a woman as Bones Brennan walks into your life, with suggestions of a happiness just barely glimpsed, and then trounces just as easily out of it, you don't recover easily. He remembered what a great time they'd had on that case, bickering and flirting all wrapped up together with an ease they had yet to attain in all their more recent months of partnership. They'd acknowledged that each thought the other was not just "symmetrical" or a "good breeder," but just plain _hot. _Then something had gone badly wrong; he pushed and tried to get too close, too fast.

"Apologize? No Booth. Well, I suppose I could apologize for striking you. That wasn't a very nice thing to do. But you did make me so frustrated!"

"Did, Bones, did. That's past tense. What's past, is past. … and thank you. Apology accepted." Booth took a few deep breaths, trying to release the tension he felt. Bones was not going to own up to what had really happened, it seemed. His only choice was to accept her exactly where she was at this moment.

Brennan's face took on a surprised look. "Oh wait, I just apologized? I suppose I did! How about that." She grinned wickedly and said, "how's that for not talking about 'that case.' We seem to have survived!" She laughed a little, and Booth laughed with her, but he wasn't ready to break the mood, to change the subject to something lighthearted, when so much progress had been made.

"That we did, Bones. That we did. Can I be honest with you, too, though?" He asked.

"Booth, you know you always can," she responded, immediately serious again. He noticed she was playing with her hands, as if uncertain of what to do with them.

"I thought about you during that year. A lot. I wanted to try … working with you again. I wasn't sure what my reception would be, though, you know… after … everything… that happened. That's why I thought I needed to actually detain you at the airport to get you to even speak to me again."

"I'm a hard one to catch, hmm?" Bones asked, casting him an almost flirtatious smile that took Booth's breath away and made his heart hammer just slightly faster, but she looked away quickly. Booth's smile widened into a full-blown charm smile as he could only tilt his head in response. "Do you regret not doing it sooner?" she asked.

"Regret? I suppose I do," he told her, making his tone deliberately casual. "It's what we do with the regrets that matters, though. You make what turns out to be a mistake and when you can, you try to fix it. In this case… there that many more murderers we could have put behind bars… and all that… but we're here now, and that's what matters."

"I feel very lucky to have you as my partner, Booth. I don't know if we would have such a successful partnership now if we hadn't had that time apart."

"Bones. I'm lucky to have you as my partner, too." Booth smiled at her.

Brennan nodded and sighed, leaning back into the couch so she was no longer facing him. A silence descended, and Booth wasn't sure whether or not to get up, get back to those dishes lingering in the kitchen, change the subject, or simply sit and wait. He decided on the latter, turning also to lean back into the cushions. He couldn't help but notice that this time, his and Bones's shoulders almost touched as they relaxed, closer than when they had first sat down.

Soon, Brennan broke the silence, but didn't move from where she sat. From her tone of voice, Booth knew that some of the evening's issues still weighed heavily on his partner's mind. "Booth? Do you think I'll… will I ever find someone who accepts my way of thinking about love? Who'll accept me as I am and not want me to take off on a sailboat? I mean, I don't mean that badly for Sully. He meant well. I just mean … I know it's not the norm in ours or many other cultures, to be so rational, but it's what I know." She paused and waited for his answer.

Booth's breath caught in his throat. "You're mighty introspective tonight, Bones. It's not like you. Are you feeling all right?" he said, keeping his voice light and easy.

"I'm serious, Booth," she countered. "I don't want … regrets. I don't want to … miss something that that many human beings find so very important." He could feel her hand clenching anxiously as it lay alongside her.

He found it hard to speak. What should he say? He sat up a little, turning to her, and took her hand in his, looking straight at her. "Bones, you'd be the first to say we can't predict the future with any accuracy, so I'm not going to try. All I do know is that when you meet a person who you think you might … fulfill your criteria for … you know…" he shrugged, "look at the evidence carefully. Don't just assume there might be pain, because maybe the evidence will suggest thirty, forty, or even fifty years of great happiness." He saw tears in his partner's eyes, tears coupled with disbelief that such a future could ever be hers.

She too turned to face him, and her hand tightened about his slightly. He reached for the other hand and held it with equal firmness. "Bones, when that day comes, if the evidence suggests that happiness might actually be found with another person, even for a while, give him a chance? For your sake, and even for his. I promise you, it'll be worth it. No regrets. Okay?" he finished, exhaling a huge breath. He realized his thumbs had started caressing her hands. He felt like he was trying to gentle a wild animal with careful movement and calm sounds.

Brennan looked back at Booth saw that he was leaning slightly towards her. There was his face with a slight, small smile before hers in her living room, but in her mind's eye she saw it on another evening, equal in intensity, but it wasn't a moment she recognized from their shared past. She inhaled sharply. The pressure of his hands on hers, holding tightly, eased some of the tension she'd felt. He leaned slightly towards her, watching so closely, and she looked down, suddenly feeling chilly from the image in her mind.

"Booth, I… I don't know. Could I really do that?" She continued to hold his hands, but her grip loosened slightly. "I don't know if I can."

He continued to gaze directly at her. "Bones. When the time comes, you owe it to yourself and this person to at least try." He smiled, releasing her hands. With one of his he lifted her chin gently, raising her eyes to look at his. "Come on, now. There's plenty of time to figure all of this out, all right?" Booth dropped his hand and gave his partner, this woman he cared so much for, another lopsided smile, trying to lighten the mood without seeming to make light of her concerns. "You're tired, you made me this _awesome_ meal, and besides, I left a pile of dishes in the kitchen that I distinctly remember agreeing I'd finish. Why don't you sit here, read a journal or something, while I clean up. And then maybe we can meet tomorrow morning to finish that paperwork, all right?"

Brennan smiled in response, a genuinely happy smile, and rested her head back into the cushions again, obviously tired and thankful. "Thanks Booth."

"Thank you, Bones, for everything. I mean it." He grinned suddenly. "_Especially_ the mac n' cheese!" His partner tilted her head and smiled back, a grin from the pages of earlier that night.

After a few minutes of cleaning the dishes, Booth looked out into the living room, where his partner had laid back on the couch, her eyes closed in sleep. As he rinsed the soap off the final plate, he'd wondered how he would say goodnight to her gracefully and simply, without awkwardness, and he wasn't sure he could do it. Bones had answered his question for him. Booth walked to the couch and draped a blanket over her legs. His hand reached for her face and brushed the hairs back toward her ears. She smiled slightly in her sleep. He paused as he considered kissing her forehead, but thought better of it, his fingers lingering gently. Booth moved around the living room and kitchen, taking care of a few more details

The door clicked shut and Brennan's eyes sprang open, startled by the sudden sense of quiet. She looked around her apartment and immediately noticed that on her coffee table was a steaming cup of her favorite herbal tea, with a small bowl next to it for the tea bag. Underneath the bowl was a note from the stationery by her phone: "Thanks for the evening, Bones. I had a great time. See you tomorrow, OK? –Booth."

A wave of almost giddy emotion slipped over hr as she thought abut the looks they'd shared over the course of the evening, followed by a sense of gratefulness that Booth knew her well enough to give her space but also to leave a note.

Outside in the hallway, Booth paused before walking away, listening closely. He wasn't sure if she'd wake up, and if she did, whether she'd be annoyed at him for leaving. She'd be sure to let him know. A few moments passed, and no irate partner stepped in to the hallway, no sound from his cell phone. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the elevator, thinking of how beautiful she'd looked, and how vulnerable she'd let him see her. He almost held his breath a bit, wondering if this newfound closeness would last until the next morning, but then he wasn't sure it mattered. The evening with Brennan had been wonderful, and he had no regrets.


	3. The Gambler

**A/N**: I'm reopening this fic from complete to in-progress! I decided that even though the previous two chapters work well on their own, I really want to take this story that explores the theme of no regrets through to the end of S6. I'd love to hear your feedback and reviews, and if you're interested in being a beta for the forthcoming chapters, let me know; I could use some preview readers!

This chapter jumps forward to the moments before Booth speaks to Brennan on the steps of the Hoover in "The Parts in the Sum of the Whole"/episode 100. Big ol' spoiler warning if you haven't yet seen it!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones, FOX does, and I thank them for it.

Chapter 3 - The Gambler

"_You. Its gotta be you, because you're the gambler. For once, make that work for you_," Sweets had said, and now Booth had to live with the therapist's goading words. _Had_ been the gambler, Booth wanted to say. He had been the gambler, until Brennan came along and helped him, however unintentionally, return to the straight and narrow. He hadn't gambled in a long time, but he felt the old familiar tingle on the back of his neck, and his mouth felt dry—symptoms he recognized from his days in recovery. Sweets was his _therapist, _for crying out loud. Recommending to a recovering addict that they participate in their problematic activity was presumably not the most appropriate course for him to recommend!

Booth, knew, too, that itch to gamble meant one thing, that a desperate feeling of regret would follow, even if he won. His last few trips to the pool hall had been tinged with such self-loathing as he fought the need to bet. Even the times he won were touched with a feeling of guilt. He'd felt a bit sick, and he wished it hadn't happened.

Booth shoved those memories aside with resolve. Gambling or not, he didn't think he could ever regret asking Bones to be with him, to really be with him in the way he'd been dreaming of for years now. Even if she turned him down—and he admitted it was a real possibility that she would—he couldn't possibly regret taking the chance, speaking the words. Could he?

Sweets was right about one thing: asking Brennan to be with him was a chance he had to take, one he just might have to take right then, before the mood of their reminiscence passed away.

"The diner?" she asked him as they stepped outside the therapist's office, continuing their conversation from inside. He wasn't sure if he was really hungry. He had just known that he needed to get out of that office. Sweets' eyes had bored into his, challenging him.

"Yeah. Let's go," he said.

As they walked down the hall, Booth's mind raced. He hadn't really planned to say anything to Brennan, not yet, not until he felt she was actually ready. He fiddled the poker chip in his pocket as they headed to the elevator. They'd grown so close in the last few months. The years of their partnership had had its ups and downs. Mac n' cheese. That had been one of the earlier highs, a wonderful moment. Booth could have sworn that Brennan hadn't let herself be so downright flirtatious with him since the Gemma Arrington case.

Gemma Arrington and that case! he grumbled to himself and shook his head. Brennan was silent walking next to him. He glanced at his partner beside him and he knew that Brennan would tell him, if she could hear him thinking, that to speak of any emotions so soon after their meeting with Sweets was a highly illogical choice, and yet with every step, it appeared to be the only one he could imagine doing at that moment. Hell, he couldn't _lie_ to his partner, his friend, the woman he loved, anymore, which was exactly what he'd been doing, exactly what he promised so often that he wouldn't ever do. It needed to end. He couldn't hide his cards any longer.

As they had talked through the case with Sweets, some of the mood of that very first case returned. The way their eyes met just a moment too long in a shared recollection, how nice she smelled just sitting next to him… he remembered noticing that shortly after meeting her and finding it strange that a woman who spent her days with very, very old bones could have such an attractive scent.

They stood by the elevator, waiting for it to reach their floor. Booth felt his leg fidgeting. He resisted his usual urge to hit the button repeatedly. He glanced at Brennan and saw she was looking at him curiously, but when his eyes caught hers, she looked down at her shoes. In an uncommon gesture of anxiety, she stepped forward and punched the elevator button once, then twice again. Booth knew she never did that; she had reminded him time and time again of the futility of hitting the buttons more than once. "_The elevator car will come to our floor according to a carefully programmed system. Pushing the button more than once won't make it arrive any faster." _She often smiled even as she said this, and once she'd told him _"You're like a small child with your eagerness to push the button. In a good way."_

Once the car finally arrived, they rode down in an awkward silence. Booth was lost in his thoughts, but not so lost that he couldn't feel Brennan's eyes glancing at him sidelong, just as his continued to do.

"He thinks he knows us so well," she said simply, as the lights ticked off the final few floors.

Booth laughed, but it came out sounding forced. "The truth is, he doesn't know the half of it, Bones," he said with another glance at his partner. The elevator came to a stop at their floor and Booth waited, his arm on the door to keep it from hitting Brennan as she stepped out.

He mulled over Brennan's words that day. Had she given any hint, any reason to hope? In fact, she hadn't, not really… not if Booth was honest with himself. She'd made it very clear over the course of their meeting with Sweets that she didn't reciprocate, or at the very least, wouldn't acknowledge having feelings for him.

"_What did you think we were going to talk to him about?" she'd asked him on the way to Sweets' office, when it became clear that they really might not have the same discussion in mind. _

_Now the cat was out of the bag, and Booth cringed visibly. "The whole, uh, love thing?"_

"_Love thing? Oh, his conclusion we're in love? I don't care about that." She kept walking quickly, not looking back. He wished she would stop walking away from him. _

Booth shook his head as he thought over the past few hours. They'd spent several hours with Sweets, filling him in on not only the case, but what it had been like to meet each other. They'd glanced back and forth, holding entire conversations with their eyes about just how much to tell the younger man. She'd smiled that coquettish little smile again, the on he saw so rarely that had been on full display until things went very, very badly at the end of the Arrington case.

"_We're not in love with each other," Brennan said to Sweets after a couple hours of conversation had passed. Her voice was still definitive. Booth had taken in her words in, apprehension and dismay overwhelming him as his face fell. He was glad Brennan hadn't seen the look on his face just then – but Sweets had seen it. Sweets saw how Booth's world crumbled around her at her fervent denial, and that was the moment Booth knew that he'd go against everything his gut was telling him, and tell Brennan how he felt. No more waiting. No more holding back, telling himself to go slowly. It was now or never, Sweets seemed to say. Do it, or you might regret never saying anything at all. _

He'd known for some months now that his feelings weren't only inspired by his coma; they were real, and they had been real, possibly for a very long time. He couldn't pinpoint the moment he'd fallen in love with her, because there had been too many little moments over the years to possibly count them. He'd only been waiting for the right moment, a moment when Brennan was open enough for just long enough to let him in, finally, through the last of the defenses she still kept so carefully around herself.

He had to think quickly, make a choice. Maybe Bones had felt it too, he thought, maybe she felt the energy between them as they remembered that case. Perhaps that energy, combined with the knowledge she'd gained from several years, now, of working with him and being his friend, would be enough for her to let him in.

Brennan spoke as they continued past the opposite side of the security clearances that barred the entrance. Her words gave voice to an ongoing tirade against psychology that must have been occurring in her head. "He takes a few of the things we've told us about our pasts and uses them to construct theories about our interpersonal dynamics. How can that possibly provide a logically formulated analysis of the situation?" She sounded frustrated, on edge. Booth wanted to talk abut the real issue, "the, uh, love thing," and he could tell Brennan was stalling, trying to keep the subject on something else without being too obvious about it. The odd tingling on the back of his neck hadn't gone away, and his mouth didn't feel any less dry. Now he felt nervous on top of the old heady sensation that always came over him whem his hands poised to throw the dice or pick a card.

"Bones, look, I agree with you, but please don't ignore the elephant in the room, here." He kept pace as she walked quickly toward the doors. He felt his heart start to hammer in his chest.

"What elephant? We're currently in an entryway, Booth." She stopped, and struggled with her coat and her bag.

"It's an expression, Bones." He sighed, but tried to smile. He reached to help her put on her coat as he had done so often. This time his fingers lingered just the slightest bit longer on her shoulders as he settled the fabric gently down. It was the closest to a caress he'd dared in a very long time. She felt solid and real under his fingers.

If she had noticed, her posture didn't betray it. Instead she looked up and back at him as she realized she had repeated her frequent error of taking turns of phrase literally. "What does it mean?" she asked. He could see that she seemed more comfortable with his explanations of common phrases than with the discussion about Sweets or his book. Coats and jackets now neatly arranged, the partners pushed the doors open.

"It means that while I hate the psychology, too, I think we really need to talk about what Sweets suggested." They stepped outside. The early spring afternoon had given way to darkness; they had been in Sweets' office for a long time, apparently. A slight wind blew and the air felt chilly. Booth shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, touching the poker chip with a finger.

"Oh, the expression means that we're ignoring the real issue!" Brennan responded, understanding dawning on her features.

"Yes, Bones, we are—that is, if it's the same issue," he added, remembering their earlier confusion of terms. They started to walk down the stairs. Booth glanced at the sign they'd walked past so many times: _Nothing happens unless first a dream…_ He would do it. He had dreamed of it so often, in his sleep and waking thoughts. He would cast the dice, he would lay his cards on the table. This was the moment. Just as he'd so often known when to fold and when to hold, and ended up with the right choice, he knew that if he didn't speak now, the words might never be said. His heart thudded in his chest.

"In his book, Sweets wrote that being abandoned by my parents made me convinced that all meaningful relationships are doomed," Brennan said, apparently thinking that this was the point they'd been ignoring.

"And he wrote that I got 'white knight syndrome' because of my physically abusive, alcoholic father." The pounding continued. He couldn't let her distract him.

"Hate psychology," she said briefly. Booth stopped walking as Brennan continued a pace or two ahead of him.

Booth paused and opened his mouth to speak, looking toward his partner. He had a fleeting regret that he hadn't had time to think this through properly, to come up with the right words, the words that would keep her there, listening long enough to give them a chance. He began to speak in short sentences, grasping for what to say.

"I'm the gambler." He looked at Brennan and a small smile crossed her lips, a light in her eyes. "I believe in giving this a chance." He looked at her uncertainly, wondering how she would take what he said. The line he had once drawn between partners and friends moved and shifted under his feet, and disappeared as he stepped inside her personal space, closing the distance his pause had created. "Look, I want to give this a shot."

"You mean us," she whispered breathlessly. Her eyes flitted to his lips and back to his eyes. He nodded, still uncertain, waiting for her to say more…

_The next chapter, obviously, begins where this one leaves off, and you'd better believe that they continue the conversation past when our screens fade to black! _

_Please R&R! I'd love to know what you think, good, bad, ugly!_


	4. The Scientist

_A/N: I'm honored that I got so many story alerts after Ch. 3! This chapter's on the long side, but for reasons that will become clear, I just couldn't bring myself to break it into two. I'm a bit nervous about posting it, that it might be too OOC, especially at the end. Please, please let me know, do me a favor and write me a note! Thanks so much for reading! _

_Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones_, just the ones in my body. _

Chapter 4: The Scientist

The couple walked down the stairs, the Washington Monument ahead of them with the Capitol Building in the distance. Brennan linked her arm around Booth's, and laid her head on his shoulder. She turned, as she always had done, to him for comfort. She was surprised, though, that he let her—and that he laid his head on top of hers as they walked slowly towards the monuments. Their movements seemed friendly, a closeness belying the intense emotions each had shared only moments before. Neither spoke anymore of going to the diner for food. She felt the strength of Booth's arm as she leaned against it, and she felt his arm trembling slightly. She wished, more than anything, that she didn't have to be the reason for his distress, but those were the facts as she knew them.

"_I'm the gambler." He looked at Brennan and a small smile crossed her lips, a light in her eyes. _

"_I believe in giving this a chance. Look, I want to give this a shot." _

"_You mean us," she whispered breathlessly. Her eyes flitted to his lips and back to his eyes. He nodded, still uncertain, waiting for her to say more. _

Brennan had known that Booth was going to say something from the moment Sweets reminded him that he was the gambler. The conversation had gone as well as she could have hoped, given the difficult emotionality of the circumstances. Booth's kiss—how desperately she wanted to be free to kiss him back, and she'd started too, naturally, happily—until she remembered that she shouldn't, not when she needed to tell him "no."

"_Well, then let's go for a different outcome here, alright? Let's just - hear me out, alright? You know when you talk to older couples who, you know, have been in love for thirty or forty or fifty years, alright, it's always the guy who says 'I knew.' I knew. Right from the beginning." Booth's words weighed in her mind. How could he know? How could anyone know the future with any certainty?_

_Brennan could only fall back on what she knew best, the logical thinking had guided her as she'd decided, a while ago now, what to say to him. "Your evidence is anecdotal," she'd told him. "I am not a gambler; I'm a scientist. I can't change. I don't know how." Brennan's tears had surprised her, but the emotions they sprang from were genuine and for once she didn't try to hide them._

Brennan had known for quite some time that Booth was going to say something to her about their relationship. She'd been fairly certain for a while that his "atta girl" declaration of love was more than that.

"_For once, make that work for you,"_ Sweets had said to Booth, and realization dawned then in Brennan's mind that the moment she hoped she'd never have to face would come soon. Her mouth had opened slightly in surprise as she glanced at Booth to see how he took Sweets' words, and she saw in his face acceptance of the challenge.

Brennan could feel Booth sighing beside her, shaking a little, and her body felt much the same way, shaken despite the friendly pause in their conversation. He'd agreed to be her partner, which was all she could ask at that point. Even Brennan could see how much it pained him, though, to have her ask that. He'd seemed so sad, and truth be told, Brennan felt sad too, deeply sad that she had to hurt this man, that she simply couldn't give him what he asked.

Brennan had already dealt with her own sadness a couple of months before. One apparently ordinary night when they'd parted ways after drinks at Founding Fathers, she realized something. She'd gone home, tipsy from their drinks, and made herself a calming glass of tea that she intended to drink while sitting on the couch, but when she sat down, all she could think of was why wasn't Booth there on the couch with her, teasing her about her healthy hot beverage. And in that instant, she knew, too. Brennan realized that she cared for Booth as more than a partner, and the thought scared her half to death.

She didn't fear his betrayal, but she did fear hers of him. She spent the next several weeks analyzing his and her behavior, replaying in her mind all the conversations they'd had about love and marriage versus biology and social contracts, and the logical conclusion she came to was that no matter what her feelings were, she could never be what Booth wanted. She knew that for certain, but she hadn't predicted how difficult it would be to say the words, with him there looking at her so earnestly, with so much passion as he'd kissed her suddenly on the lips only moments before.

Above her head, Booth spoke, and she could feel his voice resonating in the bones of her cranium. She found she liked the sensation, but she knew she needed to hide it away in the growing box where she stored all such pleasant feelings and emotions pertaining to her partner.

"Bones, look, I respect everything you just told me. Including working with you. You know that, right? And I'm not going to push you on this, but... I need to know something."

"What is it?" She nodded her head under his, and again she felt his wobble. Her arm grabbed his a little tighter.

"Listen, Bones. I kind of sprung all this on you, I think. I need to know that you're not just making a quick, spur-of-the-moment decision. Not only for how bad this feels for me, though, which I'll admit is pretty bad. … It's just that I don't want you to regret what you say tonight. I want you to be sure—to be certain—that you're making the right decision."

Brennan stopped walking and looked up at him, turning to face him. They were almost to the Reflecting Pool with its benches. A few cars moved past them, but otherwise the evening was surprisingly quiet. She found that as she moved that her fingers slipped down his arm and as they passed over his hand, she took his hand in hers.

"Bones?" Booth asked at her touch, his voice so low and tired it almost held a note of warning. But his hand clasped hers back tightly as their other hands also joined.

Brennan looked him full in the face, trying to formulate the words she needed him to hear. "Booth, I _am_ certain." Despite the redness and the damp of recent tears, her eyes felt clear now as they looked straight into his. "I'm not making a decision that isn't well thought out. You didn't surprise me. I have known for quite some time you might speak of your feelings for me, and have spent a good deal of time trying to determine my response. This is the conclusion I've come to." She let his eyes go from hers but their hands were still joined.

"I want you to look me in the eyes again, Bones, and tell me you won't regret this."

Brennan looked past him toward the monuments in the distance that had figured so prominently in so many of their conversations. "Look at me and say it," he repeated.

"This is the only logical choice, Booth." His eyes bored into hers, and she knew she hadn't said what he'd asked her to say. She glanced down once more but looked up again. "I won't regret this." She breathed the words out in a rush and tore her eyes away from his. She released his hands and started walking quickly, trying to shake off the tears that had come, unbidden, once again to her eyes.

"Bones!" he called after her. "Wait." She paused.

"It's okay. It will be okay," he said, touching her shoulder. She nodded and wiped the tears away. "I can't promise to understand, though, I'm not sure I'll ever quite understand your reliance on logic, but I know it's who you are and what you do."

Brennan nodded again. "Thank you." They resumed walking side by side, and Brennan noticed how their bodies bumped slightly as their hips swayed with the motion of walking.

"Did you act rashly?" Brennan asked quietly. "That's important, too."

"I hadn't meant to say anything to you tonight… about this, if that's what you mean." She nodded imperceptibly. "But yeah. You're right. I would have said something eventually, Bones. I think I'd always regret not trying. I couldn't have gone my whole life without knowing if there could be something between us, and if so, what it would be like. "

"Because you dreamed it about it during your coma?"

"No, because I feel it in my gut, Bones, that you and I, we could be something wonderful together."

"I wish I had your kind of faith, so that I didn't have to do this to you. I wish I had your kind of open heart."

Booth laughed gently next to her, and it was a sad and bitter sound. "Or that I had your kind of logic, so that I could simply put this night away in my mind and let it go." He sighed. Brennan glanced to her side at him. Did he really think this was so easy for her? No, she'd been crying and he'd seen it; surely he'd know she wasn't as cold as his words made her sound.

They'd arrived at the Reflecting Pool. The white glow of the monuments shimmered with the movements of the water, made more dramatic by the contrast with the darkness of nighttime.

"Booth? This won't be easy to compartmentalize, but you're right, I expect I will do so. And Booth?"

"Mmm."

"You're not a gambler anymore."

"You mean why did I let Sweets talk me into this, now?"

"Yes." She nodded. He sat down at their old familiar bench by the coffee cart, and Brennan joined him.

"Well, they say at meetings that a recovering gambler is still a gambler. You don't ever really lose it. It's always there, even if it's under the surface." Brennan nodded.

They had settled into their usual spots; Brennan to the right of Booth. She remembered how she'd nearly kissed his hand when he brought her coffee so long ago. To this day, she wasn't quite sure what had happened in that moment. They were sitting farther apart now than they had been in that long-ago morning.

Booth continued. "Just look. This is more than a gamble. That was Sweets' language, not mine. I know this in my heart. I just know it. I also know that you mean what you said, and I'm not asking you to change your mind. I'm just glad we can, you know, talk, clear the air." He paused. "I've got to ask you something else, Bones."

"Okay." She knew they'd both talk as long as they needed to in order to regain something of their equilibrium, and this bench was the perfect place to do that.

"Bones, I asked you years ago, when that guy came along and asked you to be with him, for real, for decades, I asked you to give it a shot. Did you think about what I said?"

"I didn't know it would be you, Booth."

His face pulled back into a grimace. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What I mean is that I didn't think it would ever happen, Booth, not with you, not with anyone. I didn't consider that it might ever even be an issue." She looked at him, remembering his words to her on her couch so long ago. She really hadn't thought they'd ever be spoken again.

"So it's not just me, then." Booth's head slumped to his shoulders, looking away from her.

She shook her head. "Of course it's not, Booth. If it ever would have been anyone, it would have been you—you, the dreamer who lives widely, despite everything you know about me. And I'm honored by that." She glanced at him, and saw that he'd visibly blanched, as if stunned by her words, which sank in slowly. His face lifted. His eyes returned to hers with just the slightest bit of hope, the slightest softening in the depths of brown.

"Booth, I've already told you that I just can't do this." _I am not a gambler,_ _I'm a scientist_. _I can't change. I don't know how_. She felt the tears again. "It's not that I don't care about you, really, it isn't. You, with your gut, you must know that I do, more and differently than I've ever cared for anyone. But what you want, the thirty, forty, fif"—Brennan's voice broke as her tears spilled over yet again that night—"a committed, married relationship, children... It's just not who I am, Booth. You know my history, you know how terrible I am at relationships, and you know my thoughts about everything you hold dear."

He nodded slowly, and Brennan saw that the brief light had passed again from his eyes. He looked up at her, and the sight made the tears start to fall again, he looked so sad and lost. _Please don't look so sad._

"I don't want things between us to change, Booth. You're the most important person in my life, and I can't lose you. I can't," she repeated for emphasis. "I'd rather be your partner than risk… than risk what might happen were we to become something more."

Booth took both her hands again and said slowly, quietly, as he rubbed his fingers over hers, "You know that what we have goes way beyond work, way beyond partners. You're not pretending you don't understand, and I… that honesty means the world to me. Yet you say you can't be with me. I accept that, I have to. But why do I feel like we're having an ending before we ever really had a beginning?"

Brennan tried to smile at him. "In anthropology, we'd say that we're currently having a _liminal_ moment, Booth. We're between different states of being. Earlier today, we were just partners. Right now, right here," she took a hand from his and wiped away the tears, but placed her hand back in Booth's big palm, "we're betwixt and between. We've left one state, and we have to rest here a while before we move onto… whatever comes next."

"So it's kind of like the Catholic view of limbo, then, except we're not dead, of course."

Brennan couldn't help but laugh. "Well, yes, if you include the 'not dead' part. And who would identify our bodies?" Booth laughed at her words too, and for a moment, his eyes were free of pain.

She moved closer and laid her head on his shoulder. Brennan found that even as she said no with her words, she wanted to feel closer to him just this once, just in this brief moment while she could. After the night had passed, she'd move on with her life. She'd take this evening and close it up in an ever-growing box deep within her mind. Booth didn't move away, but put his arm around her shoulder and held her close. She felt him kiss her on her hairline, and a shiver ran down her back at his touch. His arm squeezed her closer and Brennan felt protected, safe. If only she didn't have to do what logic dictated was the most proper course of action.

"Look at us, look at where we are," Booth whispered. She looked around at sparkling scene before her. "Partners don't sit on benches holding hands and crying, Bones. Can you truly not see or feel what it is you're giving up, what we could have?"

She turned to look at him. Emotions flitted across his gorgeous face, the face she'd spent so much time studying, but she couldn't keep up with everything she saw. Sadness, yes, a touch of anger, perhaps, and an intensity that had clouded his eyes to black, plus something else that she'd seen there before and which she suspected Booth would name as "love." She looked into his eyes and even though it made so little sense, she wanted to believe him, wanted to lose her logic in what she saw in his face. "Booth," she said, and her voice was little more than a whisper. His hand smoothed her hair back as it blew in the wind, and lingered on his face. She put her hand over his and held it there, looking deeply into his eyes and face as he looked back at her.

Booth moved as if to say something, but Brennan cut him off. Without thinking, she kissed him, fiercely. She pressed her lips against his and her hands reached to grab his, but then she, too, knew the feeling of being pushed away.

"What the hell Bones! No, please! Don't do this to me!" He pushed her away, but as he did so, he enveloped Brennan in a huge, crushing hug. "Don't break my heart again and then kiss me! I don't know what you're doing!"

"It's not like kissing my brother at all," she whispered after a moment. "It's not a guy hug at all."

"I know, Bones, I know." His hand stroked her hair as they rocked back and forth. "Just don't do this."

"I'm sorry. I guess I needed to … before I can't anymore… before we move on to…" she wasn't sure what to say, and she hated being so incoherent. She felt her cheeks burn red under the moonlight. She'd wanted to taste his lips once more, before they became truly forbidden to her, but she hadn't realized the extent to which, in Booth's mind, she'd forfeited that right already.

"A break-up kiss. Of all the ironies, Bones…" He leaned back against the bench. "You know why I need to move on, don't you Bones?"

"I know. You want that life. You're almost in your forties, Booth, and awareness of your own mortality makes you want to fulfill your hopes and dreams. I truly want you to find that, Booth. I want you to be happy."

"Yeah. You've made your decision, and if I know you, you'll stick with it. You'll stick with it, even if I'm not sure I'll ever understand it. Especially given all of _this_, here, tonight." He gestured to the two of them on the bench, the Reflecting Pool, the monuments. She saw in his eyes that the white shimmer reflected in a pool of tears that had gathered there.

"That's why this is so hard to say, but Bones, I want you to… I need you to know … I don't know if I'll ever meet someone else, Bones. Maybe it won't happen, but I guess I just need you to understand… what might happen. You'll always, I mean, I'll always—" And with that, Booth's tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, but he didn't hide them from her.

Next to him Brennan had started crying too. "I do understand, Booth. And, for what it's worth, I… I'm sorry." As she spoke, Booth wiped his eyes, and passed her hand over her eyes as well.

"I know. I love you, Temperance Brennan. I'll always love you, even if… "

"I know, Seeley Booth."

_R&R please! (Pretty please?) Short or long, critical, constructive, or just commentary, I'd love to hear it! Thank you in advance! _


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